<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Duet by jo2ukes</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24155731">Duet</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jo2ukes/pseuds/jo2ukes'>jo2ukes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Everybody Lives, M/M, Oral Sex, Semi-PWP, Strap-Ons, Trans Hubert von Vestra, Trans Male Character, route agnostic, some character introspection but it's mostly just horny</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:02:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,889</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24155731</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jo2ukes/pseuds/jo2ukes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>At times, the two of them struggle to find the terms to express themselves the way they intend, but the wordless affection effortlessly pouring from each press of Dedue’s lips against his skin says more than any string of words in any language could ever hope to convey.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dedue Molinaro/Hubert von Vestra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Duet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>(a very special thanks to my friend Doug for his beta reading skills &lt;3)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“As I suspected, that was entirely mortifying,” Hubert sighs, kicking off his shoes the second they return to the privacy of their room. “I feel I must apologize that your first opera had to be something as… shocking as that.”</p>
<p>“You hated it that much?” Dedue asks, a hint of a smile on his lips. He walks to the bed and sits, unlacing his boots.</p>
<p>“Three months apart and <em> this </em> is how you chose to spend the evening of our reunion,” Hubert jokes, clicking his tongue and dodging the question. He slides onto the mattress, kneeling behind Dedue. “Let me help you with your hair,” he says, already working to remove the braids he’d created for the occasion.</p>
<p>“You say that as though there was a choice,” Dedue laughs, “I did not have the heart to turn down Dorothea’s invitation. Though, you can rest assured I certainly had other plans for the evening.”</p>
<p>“So you’ve told me,” Hubert blushes. “In <em> great </em> detail in each of your letters.” He presses a kiss to the top of Dedue’s head. “Even for an opera, the historical accuracy was disturbing at best. Especially since Dorothea <em> lived </em>through the whole thing,” he continues, standing. He bustles about the room, removing various garments and adornments, putting them away just so until he gets caught up enough in his critique to pause- standing in the middle of their room in only a thin, half unbuttoned undershirt. </p>
<p>“Can you imagine if we’d attempted meeting up in secret in-between battles like that? And the secret wedding in the second act. Laughable,” he scoffs, turning to face Dedue who is leaning back against their pillows, watching him, his eyes alight. “All right then, what did you think of it?”</p>
<p>“It reminded me of the storybooks Ashe and Ingrid are so taken with,” Dedue muses. “Flowery. Exaggerated. Rather lovely, all things considered. The truth is rarely as poetic as we make it out to be.”</p>
<p>“I forget. You’re quite the romantic, aren’t you?” Hubert smirks. He moves to join Dedue on the bed, nestling beside him and draping an arm across Dedue’s stomach. “I suppose you are correct. Marriages born of political convenience and advantage are hardly the stuff of legend.” </p>
<p>“Ah, so I am merely a political convenience,” Dedue laughs. </p>
<p>“Yes, well, if it is any consolation, you’re a <em> handsome </em>political convenience,” he teases, pressing a kiss to Dedue’s jaw. </p>
<p>“Perhaps it is just as well Dorothea was able to take the scars left from the war and turn them into something beautiful,” Dedue muses, suddenly serious. “To be able to see the good in others, and their cause, regardless of the banner they fought under. To use art as a way to get people to see that goodness, too.”</p>
<p>The end of the war is only a mere five years behind them, and memories of that time are crystal clear in Hubert’s mind. They were darker times, to be sure- he certainly committed a number of atrocities in the name of the Empire- all actions he believed to be necessary (and still does), but ultimately could have been avoided had he identified the clear path to victory much sooner. Then again, <em> Dedue </em>is the only reason he’d even considered alternate paths. The need for bloodshed hadn’t particularly bothered him until he was confronted with the possibility of losing Dedue.</p>
<p>“Do you ever find yourself wondering what our futures might have been? Had we simply… let the war run its course, rather than interfering?”</p>
<p>“I try not to. We came so close to-” Dedue pauses, his brow furrowing. He bites his lip, reaching out a hand and running his knuckles gently against Hubert’s cheek. His touch lingers, his fingers eventually brushing back the hair hanging in Hubert’s face. “We are fortunate you are more like Dorothea than you realize. <em> I </em>am fortunate. I know it was not easy.”</p>
<p>Hubert rests his head against Dedue’s chest, falling silent for a moment. Dedue’s unfinished thought sits heavily in the air. He’s right, of course. If they hadn’t reshaped their liege’s paths for them, Fodlan would look much different than it does now. Not necessarily worse, but there wouldn’t be room for both of them to exist together. He’s always known this.</p>
<p>“Disagreeing with Lady Edelgard wasn’t the difficult part,” he laughs, “It wasn’t the first time I’d enforced other methods,” he confesses. “In fact, disagreeing with her, finding alternate methods or easier paths was something of a matter of pride. It made me feel… useful. But of course you know all that. What is curious was that it was the first path I stumbled upon and wanted to follow that required mercy rather than bloodshed.”</p>
<p>“You are not the monster you think you are,” Dedue muses, continuing to comb his fingers through Hubert’s hair.</p>
<p>“Perhaps,” Hubert laughs darkly. “My father would be very unhappy to hear you say so.”</p>
<p>“I am pleased to hear it,” he laughs.</p>
<p>Even in times of peace, with the ghost of his father typically far out of his mind, the Marquis von Vestra finds a way to snake into Hubert’s thoughts. Years ago, he would  never have been able to picture himself in such a situation- not only thriving in times of peace, but <em> content </em> with peace. Fodlan united, not just under Lady Edelgard’s rule, but Dimitri and Claude’s as well. Hubert wasn’t sure the type of man he would be once his bloody contributions were no longer needed, or what sort of skills and knowledge he would even be able to offer the newly formed United Fodlan. It seems, fortunately, that Lady Edelgard puts as much stock in his political prowess as she ever did in his ability to carry out… unsavory missions.  While Dedue remains at Dimitri’s side in former Faerghus, working to reestablish Duscur, Hubert’s work usually keeps him in former Adrestia, where he is tasked with overseeing reconstruction efforts in von Vestra territory and repairing broken bonds with Brigid and Dagda. And, despite his initial reservations, the fruits of his labor are slowly blooming. What’s more, they give him <em> satisfaction. </em>His father had always told him he’d hate such peace and, for so many years, Hubert believed that would truly be the case.</p>
<p>It wasn’t the first thing his father was wrong about, and it won’t be the last. </p>
<p>He remembers repeated reminders of his purpose as a tool, that a von Vestra’s soul only has capacity for destruction and death- there is no room for trifles like love and desire, that he isn’t <em> himself </em> , he’s whatever house Hresvelg demands him to be. He only wants what house Hresvelg tells him to want. He only strives for what house Hresvelg deems worthy. But none of that is true. Lady Edelgard has always encouraged him to be his own man, of course, but her gentle coaxing was, and <em> is </em> , different. It has to be, due to the nature of their relationship. During the war (before it, even), Hubert was content to see himself through a more simplistic lens, happy to serve Edelgard and fulfill her wishes, throwing his lot in with hers. For a time, he fully embraced the image his father had molded for him, relished in the reputation he built for himself. But it didn’t last. Dedue, anomaly that he is, changed everything. Right from the start, he saw Hubert as someone more than the vicious (albeit, <em> earned </em> ) whispers that followed him around the monastery.  As someone outside of whatever oaths and duty the Marquis von Vestra had ascribed to him. He saw Hubert, not only as a man, but a man worthy of love. Capable of gentility and kindness and compassion. And for some curious reason, Hubert made the conscious decision to cling to him. He fought it at first, but his efforts proved futile, eventually leading him to the realization that, despite what his rational mind would tell him, at his core, he didn’t <em> want </em>to rid himself of his affections for Dedue. </p>
<p>“You are the first thing I ever wanted that I wasn’t told to,” he admits. “The antidote to the poison in my veins.” He feels embarrassed at his own confession, though it isn’t the first time he’s allowed such words to pass through his lips. He traces invisible patterns into Dedue’s skin, unable to meet his eyes.</p>
<p>“To think, earlier you were so adamant you are not a romantic,” Dedue laughs. His voice is light, playful, but it’s easier for Hubert to read into the kiss Dedue presses to his collarbone- gentle, barely there. At times, the two of them struggle to find the terms to express themselves the way they intend, but the wordless affection effortlessly pouring from each press of Dedue’s lips against his skin says more than any string of words in any language could ever hope to convey. </p>
<p>“I want to see you,” he says, pulling away. He presses a kiss against Hubert’s neck. Soft. Tentative. Inquisitive.</p>
<p>“I think the opera has rubbed off on you,” Hubert laughs, but his voice sounds weak. He knows the flush spreading across his face betrays him. He turns his head, giving Dedue easier access to the expanse of his skin. “Here I was, foolish enough to think a political opera would spoil my plans for the evening.”</p>
<p>Dedue laughs at that, the rumble of his voice vibrating against Hubert’s skin and sending chills down his spine.</p>
<p>Hubert gently pushes Dedue back against their pillows, straddling his waist. He moves to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way, Dedue’s hands quickly joining to assist him. When Dedue sits up to pull his own shirt off, he takes advantage of the opportunity to kiss Hubert's lips, before tossing the garment carelessly to the floor.</p>
<p>“I am so taken with every <em> inch </em>of you,” Dedue breathes.</p>
<p>As if he needs to prove his point, he trails kisses from Hubert’s neck, down his arms, back up and then down his chest, his fingers gently running along the length of Hubert’s ribs.</p>
<p>“You’re still wearing these,” Dedue murmurs, taking Hubert’s hands in his own and running his fingers over the pristine white fabric of Hubert’s gloves. “Are your scars hurting?”</p>
<p>“I- well, no,” Hubert stammers, flustered. “Simply a force of habit.”</p>
<p>Dedue hums, pulling at the fingers of Hubert’s right glove. It brushes gently against his skin, slipping off easily. Despite the flashy show of it all, the grand reveal is nothing but Hubert’s marred skin. Yet, the way Dedue treats him, fawns over him, it’s like he’s seeing something much more picturesque than Hubert feels he could ever amount to. He’s never quite prepared for the reverence with which Dedue regards even his most obvious physical flaws. </p>
<p>Dedue repeats the same gentle motions, removing Hubert’s left glove. The cool air dances across his skin for only a fraction of a second before it is quickly replaced with the warmth of Dedue’s touch. He runs his fingers gently along the skin of Hubert’s palms, his touch ghosting over the scars that litter his skin, drawing patterns across his knuckles, his face holding an expression that can be described as nothing short of enamored. He takes Hubert’s right hand and presses his palm gently to his lips, placing feather light kisses against his skin.</p>
<p>And, just like that, Hubert is completely bare before him.</p>
<p>In the past, Hubert found it odd… uncomfortable, really, to be so fully and completely exposed to another person. To have eyes raking over every inch of his skin- his every flaw so readily apparent and awaiting inevitable judgement. With Dedue, it never feels that way. The vulnerability is still there, but the fear is not. He feels… peace. Dedue’s expression always tells him all he needs to know. A simple glance from Dedue does more in the way of reassurance than the flowery speeches of his former flings ever managed to- a glance tells him <em> it’s okay </em>. A glance tells him Dedue never sees anything but perfection when he looks upon Hubert’s body, even with all his jagged edges and scars and gangly limbs. </p>
<p>“You are so beautiful,” he whispers against Hubert’s palm. His voice is so soft, like a prayer. The air rushes out of Hubert’s lungs and the ache that makes a home in his chest is almost unbearable. </p>
<p>Dedue looks up at him, his eyes soft. Hubert opens his mouth to speak, but his head is only filled with thoughts of closing the distance between the two of them. He is so acutely aware of every inch of skin untouched by his husband. Without thinking, he leans forward and presses his lips against Dedue’s, relishing in the way his head spins. </p>
<p>Dedue deepens the kiss, wrapping his arms around Hubert’s waist and pulling him closer, as though they still had miles of distance to close between the two of them. Hubert appreciates the added closeness, reluctant to pull away despite the fire in his lungs. To distract himself, he grinds his hips tentatively against Dedue, attuned to even the most minute reactions. Dedue sighs, tightening his grip ever so slightly. A second rush of confidence settles in his gut as he feels Dedue harden beneath him. He continues slowly grinding his hips, peppering Dedue’s face with kisses, eventually nipping at his neck, contemplating leaving marks. Dedue can easily cover them and not draw attention - the cold, harsh weather of Faerghus always demands scarves and layers and high-necked shirts, but <em> knowing </em>Dedue’s skin is littered with intentional imperfections- gentle reds painted by Hubert’s lips and teeth- whether or not others can see them, is certainly an enticing prospect.</p>
<p>His body acts before his mind settles on a decision, kissing the skin where Dedue’s neck meets his collarbone- softly at first- eventually letting his gentle ministrations melt away, meeting Dedue’s skin with the careful bite of his teeth. </p>
<p>Dedue lets out a quiet hiss of pleasure.</p>
<p>“You know,” Hubert smirks, letting his lips and teeth make their way up Dedue’s neck to his earlobe, “You’ve managed to fill your letters with all the <em> delicious </em> details of what you’d do to me, but I don’t recall being able to share what <em> I’d </em>do.”</p>
<p>He takes great pleasure in the audible <em> whoosh </em>of air from Dedue’s lungs.</p>
<p>“Then show me,” Dedue whispers, his cheeks dusted with a light blush.</p>
<p>He flashes a wicked grin, scooting back on the mattress, his lips trailing down Dedue’s chest as he moves. His fingers stop at the waistband of Dedue’s pants, tugging lightly. Dedue lifts his hips, helping Hubert tug his pants and undergarments off. It’s almost a shame- there are so few occasions Hubert gets to see him dressed so formally. Whoever tailors his clothes should be granted a noble title- not that the status would hold much esteem in the years to come- simply for knowing what colors and cuts best suit his husband and accent his muscular frame <em> just </em>so.</p>
<p>The rest of Dedue’s clothes are thrown to the floor with the same carelessness as his shirt, with Hubert immediately turning his attention to the freshly bared expanse of Dedue’s skin. He presses a fresh line of kisses from Dedue’s ribs down to his hips, back up to his chest and down his stomach, relishing in the way Dedue’s muscles ripple beneath his gentle touch.</p>
<p>With a reverence he’s only ever shown Dedue, he takes his cock in his hands, stroking him gently. Dedue’s eyes flicker with hunger as he watches Hubert move, and his lips part slightly as he picks up the pace. He presses gentle kisses along Dedue’s hip bone, his lips slowly trailing inward, closer and closer to the silvery curls at the base of his cock.</p>
<p>His eyes flick to Dedue’s, trying to gauge his mood, his desperation- as though it wasn’t already apparent by the hardening cock in the palm of his hand. He drags his tongue lazily against the shaft, attuned to every subtle change in Dedue’s body, spurred on by the desire alight in hiseyes. He takes Dedue in his mouth, slowly at first, letting his taste wash over him- salty, heady, something so <em> distinctly </em> Dedue. He moves, taking more of Dedue in his mouth, until the head of his cock hits the back of his throat. He holds it there, letting Dedue sit on his tongue, his nose pressed into Dedue’s lower abdomen. He holds his position, waiting for the subtle quivers, a signal  that Dedue is practically on the edge, ready to beg him to move. What he doesn’t expect is for the plea to actually come. The soft <em> please, </em>spilling out of Dedue’s mouth. </p>
<p>He steals a glance up at Dedue, who blushes when they make eye contact, his hands gripping tightly at the bedsheets. </p>
<p>“Hubert, <em> please, </em>” Dedue repeats, biting his lip.</p>
<p>How could he say no to such an earnest request? He moves again, letting Dedue’s cock fall out of his mouth with a soft <em> pop </em>. He kisses up and down the shaft before taking Dedue in his mouth once more. Hubert’s hands wander as he bobs his head, squeezing the taut flesh of Dedue’s thighs, running his fingers along the defined muscles in his legs. He moans around Dedue’s cock as he moves, the heat between his own legs building as he works.</p>
<p>When Dedue’s breath starts hitching with regularity, he feels Dedue gently cup the side of his face with his hand, guiding him off his cock. Hubert lets himself be pulled away- Dedue doesn’t have to say anything, Hubert can read in his expression that he’s close, and he’d rather drag things out- he doesn’t want to finish this way. </p>
<p>Or, at least, not yet.</p>
<p>“I would be remiss if I did not return the favor,” Dedue whispers, his expression serious, earnest, despite the hint of a grin forming at the corner of his mouth. “I would hate to have taken the time to write about such things and not follow through.” </p>
<p>Hubert hums his permission, leaning forward to press a kiss to Dedue’s lips in response.</p>
<p>With effortless grace, Dedue wraps his arm around Hubert’s waist and flips their positions, mirroring Hubert’s earlier actions and kissing his way down his chest, paying attention to his ribs and the way his bones no longer jut out like they used to in pre-war days. As Dedue makes his way slowly down Hubert’s body, the ache between his thighs becomes harder and harder to ignore. Dedue’s hot breath ghosts so gently across his most sensitive areas, his lips dancing dangerously close to Hubert’s core, but never quite close enough.</p>
<p>“I thought you were going to return the favor, not tease me to death,” he huffs, propping himself up on his elbows so he can get a better look at Dedue. He means for the tone of his voice to come across lighthearted and playful, but he sounds desperate. Impatient. Both of which are true, but, as always, he hates revealing his hand like this.</p>
<p>“I am nothing if not a man of my word,” Dedue replies. Hubert can feel him grinning against his skin. Nevertheless, Dedue makes good on his promise, dragging his lips across Hubert’s inner thigh before <em> finally </em>, mercifully pressing kisses against his core. He parts his lips, a languid brush of his tongue parting Hubert’s folds and flicking against his most sensitive bundle of nerves.</p>
<p>“<em> F-fuck,” </em> he breathes, combing his fingers through Dedue’s hair. His outburst, though quiet, earns a small laugh of satisfaction from Dedue.</p>
<p>It does not take long for Dedue’s laughter to die in his throat, swallowed instead by the occasional moan, his enthusiasm on par with Hubert’s. Hubert does his best to keep still, but cannot help the occasional twitch of his hips, seeking more contact with the heavenly sensation of Dedue’s tongue. He attempts to busy his hands in an effort to last longer, to distract himself from the electricity flooding through every inch of his body. His fingers wander, moving to undo the ribbon that keeps Dedue’s  long, silvery locks tied neatly atop his head. </p>
<p>Dedue, unperturbed by Hubert’s movements, continues expertly laving his tongue across Hubert’s core in broad, slow strokes, easily able to read exactly where Hubert wants him, <em> how </em>Hubert wants him, adding kindling to the fire building up in the pit of Hubert’s lower stomach. Despite his lack of control, Dedue never shies away, instead, doubling down on his ministrations, determined to carry Hubert to climax.</p>
<p>And he does.</p>
<p>A few moments later, after Dedue picks up the pace, Hubert reaches his peak, his entire body numb with sensation as he arches off the mattress, Dedue’s hand holding him steady as he rocks through each wave of his orgasm. When he stills, Dedue kisses his way back up to Hubert’s lips, moving with a deliberate tenderness.</p>
<p>“I would like,” he breathes in between kisses, “to please you. If you’ll have me.”</p>
<p>Dedue sighs lightly, pressing his forehead against Hubert’s, nodding enthusiastically.</p>
<p>“Please.” </p>
<p>Hubert sits upright, taking a moment to catch his breath, before reaching into the oak nightstand on his side of the bed.  He procures a small vial of oil, passing it to Dedue before continuing to dig amongst his belongings, his fingers eventually finding the familiar feel of leather. </p>
<p>He works as he watches Dedue move, buckling the leather tightly against his frame, desire rekindling in the pit of his gut as Dedue fingers himself- his breathing ragged, his silvery hair spilling beautifully across the pillow, scissoring himself open to better accommodate the makeshift phallus at the end of the harness. Eventually, he moves back toward Dedue, kneeling over him and pressing a kiss to the corner of his open mouth.</p>
<p>Dedue sits up, shakily, fumbling for the vial of oil he’d been handed earlier. Disheveled as he is, Hubert is breathless, so captivated that he almost doesn’t notice Dedue reaching to tug at the makeshift cock protruding from Hubert’s pelvis, coating it in the slick of the oil. Each gentle pull causes the end of the cock to brush against Hubert’s clit, teasing him, driving him wild with impatience. He kisses Dedue’s temple, gently brushing his hands away and taking over the job- this part is supposed to be about Dedue, after all.</p>
<p>Once he’s sufficiently slick, he wipes his hands on the sheets (making a mental note to apologize to the staff the next morning) and guides Dedue to lay back against the pillows. He gently pushes Dedue’s legs apart, pulling them up slightly, and positions the head of the cock just above Dedue’s entrance.  </p>
<p>“Are you ready?” he asks, brushing a few stray locks of hair out of Dedue’s face. </p>
<p>“Yes,” comes Dedue’s throaty response, not a fraction of a second later.</p>
<p>“Eager,” he laughs, kissing Dedue again before pushing his hips slowly forward.</p>
<p>Neither of them are incredibly <em> practiced </em> in the art of lovemaking so to speak, eagerly fumbling through the motions time and time again, yet still managing to collapse into each other’s arms at the end, fully satisfied. A long engagement and years of marriage means they’ve found their rhythm now- sex is something of a practiced dance, one that’s become easier with time and patience and communication. Despite his initial reservations and embarrassment, he has learned that being together isn’t about being perfect or good, it’s about being what Dedue <em> needs. </em>And somehow, he manages to be just that.</p>
<p>When Dedue makes love to him, he’s thoughtful. Patient. Gentle. Somehow able to translate every twitch and heave of Hubert’s body into the exact position or pace or touch he needs the most. When Hubert makes love to Dedue, he’s deliberate. Eager. Passionate. He relishes in his ability to leave someone so unbreakable, completely breathless and vulnerable.</p>
<p>“How do you feel?” he asks.</p>
<p>Dedue’s only response is a breathy sigh and a nod of his head.</p>
<p>Hubert slowly pushes in deeper, feeling Dedue clench against him, each movement shooting straight to his core. Embarrassingly enough, the slowness of his pace isn’t just for Dedue’s own benefit- despite already having cum once, it’s been months (practically an eternity) since they’ve been together like this and, <em>flames, </em>Hubert wants to make it last as long as he can, but his own limitations and hunger are becoming more and more apparent. </p>
<p>If Dedue minds the achingly slow pace, he certainly doesn’t say anything- instead, his legs snake their way around Hubert’s thighs, pulling him closer, drawing him in deeper. It will always be surreal to him- the way Dedue’s entire body bends and shapes and relaxes, molding to his touch, doing everything he can to take in more of Hubert. That someone like him, with all his flaws and shortcomings, is able to elicit such a reaction from someone as handsome as Dedue. And he truly is handsome, lying there on his back, silvery hair spread across the pillow and encircling his face, a light sheen of sweat forming across his chest, his brilliant white scars contrasting sharply with the perfection of his skin, his lips parted ever so slightly and his bright eyes looking up at Hubert, pleasured and pleading all at the same time.</p>
<p>He takes Dedue’s hand in his, bringing it to his lips and pressing gentle kisses to each of his fingertips, but his regal composure breaks with each thrust, desire consuming him. Seeing Dedue break and surrender wholly to the pleasure of feeling Hubert <em> inside </em> sparks a renewed vigor in him. He picks up the pace, driving deeper and deeper, faster and faster, searching relentlessly for that perfect angle-</p>
<p>Dedue gasps, then erupts into a moan, fists clutching in desperation at the bedsheets.</p>
<p>
  <em> -There. </em>
</p>
<p>Hubert doubles down in his efforts, moving at a punishing pace, hitting that same sensitive spot again and again,  ignoring the gasps and quiet cries pouring so easily from his own mouth. Eventually, Dedue’s hands find their way to his body, his strong fingers caressing Hubert’s skin, shaking from the sensations of pleasure wracking his body.</p>
<p>And then, in a soft, sudden moment, Dedue taps at his thigh, an unspoken signal between the two of them that he is close. Hubert takes his hand, leaning forward and thrusting deeply, slowly, dragging out the moment where he can. A string of Duscur falls from Dedue’s lips as he squeezes Hubert’s hand. He can’t make out any of the sentences Dedue is rapidly stringing together, he’s only attuned to the sound of his own name punctuating every other sentence- the way his name fits effortlessly in between Dedue’s native Duscur. A prayer of pleasure meant for his ears alone.</p>
<p>Hubert.</p>
<p>Hubert.</p>
<p>
  <em> Hubert. </em>
</p>
<p>Each cry of his name encourages him on, tears down any semblance of self-control he has left in his being. Feeling his own end rapidly approaching, Hubert reaches down, taking Dedue’s cock in his free hand once more. He strokes in time with each of his stuttering thrusts. </p>
<p>Dedue gently squeezes his hand once more as he reaches the peak of his climax, ropes of white shooting across his stomach and dripping down Hubert’s hand. Hubert follows shortly after, his mind completely blank, bringing their intertwined fingers to his parted lips and moaning quietly against Dedue’s fingers.</p>
<p>He catches his breath, pulling slowly out of Dedue. With great effort, he stands, ignoring the way his legs shake, and removes the harness, setting it atop the nightstand. He then bends over, grabbing his thin shirt from off the floor before returning to lay at his husband’s side- who, he notices somewhat bemusedly, still has yet to move. He uses the shirt to clean Dedue’s stomach as well as his hands (another apology he will owe the servants) before tossing it back onto the floor.</p>
<p>“Shall I draw a bath?” he asks, resting a hand gently on Dedue’s chest.</p>
<p>“Hold me,” Dedue requests, rolling onto his side and pulling Hubert’s arm with him.</p>
<p>“As you wish,” Hubert laughs. He settles behind Dedue on the mattress, pressing his chest against Dedue’s skin, kissing his neck. “It seems the opera <em> did </em>make you a bit sentimental, am I wrong?”</p>
<p>Dedue rolls over to face him, a small grin lighting up his features.</p>
<p>“I never maintained I was anything <em> but </em>,” he murmurs, nuzzling against Hubert’s chest. His breath slows, coming out in an easy rhythm, dancing across Hubert’s bare chest. Hubert idly plays with Dedue’s hair, watching the silver strands cascade through his fingers.</p>
<p>Groggily, Dedue hums, leaning into Hubert’s touch. The notes replicated with his soft baritone seem familiar and foreign all at the same time. It takes him a moment to place where the song is from, but lyrics begin to float into his mind and he recognizes it as an aria from Dorothea’s opera. One of Dedue’s. Or, his operatic counterpart, at least. Hubert chuckles, resting his chin atop Dedue’s head, pulling him closer to his chest.  </p>
<p>He’ll never admit it, but even without Dorothea’s theatrical embellishments, what he has with Dedue truly <em> does </em>feel like the stuff of legend. Something fantastical and far-fetched, something he’d never imagined would happen to him.</p>
<p><br/>And yet, it is. He fought for it, bled for it, <em> chose </em>it. He chose Dedue, and Dedue chose him. None of the poems or storybooks or operas in all of Fodlan could be as beautiful as that.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WE DID IT FOLKS, WE MADE IT TO THE DOUBLE DIGITS!!!! THE BIG 1-0!!! I'M POPPING BOTTLES!!!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>